May We Be Gone But Never Forgotten
by InaLndofMyth
Summary: Will Solace is admist the Battle of Manhattan, fighting for his friends, his family and his life when the responsibilities of Head Medic and Head Counselor are thrust upon him after the death of Michael Yew, his older brother and formal Head, dies. Can Will survive the battle? Or will the pressures of war get to him? —•— These are the events of TLO through Will’s POV.


Will was tired. He felt like an old rag; as if someone had rung him out and shook him up and left him to hand on a wire; stretched, fraying and pulled taunt at the edges. No, Will wasn't tired. He realized as a pinging developed in his head, a ringing in his ears, a pain behind his eyes and vertigo everywhere he looked. He was **exhausted**.

Will had been fighting ruthlessly, nonstop, for hours. His arms, legs and head ached; blisters had formed on his feet from his sneakers rubbing against his socks all day; sweat had pooled, dried, seeped and pooled again at the base of his neck and back. Will wanted to do nothing more then simply take a short nap, but he couldn't afford that pleasantry at the moment. Right now? He was currently in a war where every second, every action, every moment and any person could change the delicate fate of the future, for good or for worse.

"Help!" Will shot a griffin in the eye seconds before it pounced on a fellow demigod before he whirled around. A boy with brown hair and wide, fearful eyes beckoned to him.

"You're an Apollo's kid, right? A little girl's been injured, there's blood everywhere and I don't know what to do," the boy babbled as he lead a begrudgingly Will past apartment buildings and into a side ally. Will, although equally as talented when it came to medical care as anyone twice his age, preferred not to leave the loosing fight and waste precious, valuable time; but he couldn't just let some little girl die. That would be heartless and cruel.

Their feet clawed at the pavement as they dragged their tired limbs across the street. Will stopped cold in his tracks as he took in the scene before him. Blood, fresh blood, was indeed, everywhere. It was as if Jackson Pollock himself had arrived at the scene with a red coated paintbrush in hand, splattering the walls and the ground in a frenzy. Will was concerned by the crimson, wet blanket coating a small, frail girl who was laying on the ground.

Will and the boy rushed over to the girl who was curled up in a ball. Her eyes fluttered open as they approached, revealing striking amber orbs.

"Hey," Will said softly as looked her over. She couldn't be older than eleven. Blood mattered her light hair, dying it pink. Scratch marks ran down her cheeks and the skin around her ear had been torn mercilessly. "I'm Will, son of Apollo."

The girl merely blinked, staring over Will's shoulder.

"What's wrong? What is she looking at?" the younger boy hyperventilated.

"She's looking at me—or trying to," Will explained as he elevated the girl's head with his hands. "She's had too much blood loss to see properly. She's navigating mainly by sound because the only thing she's seeing at the moment is pain."

Will noticed the girl was clutching her stomach. He gently removed her hands and peeled the ruby soaked shirt away from her skin. Being a child of Apollo meant Will was immune to many gory things. He could, as his siblings, sit through a horror movie with ease (and while eating) but even Will's stomach twisted unpleasantly as he took in the wound. Claw marks tore up her entire stomach, leaving shredded ribbons of skin in its place; intestines prodded from unnatural places and he could see glimpses of her rib cage.

It was a wonder the girl wasn't dead already from receiving the injury or the lack of blood after.

A nasty sound filled the air as the boy retched up his previous meal. "Can you help her?" he gasped as he wiped his mouth.

Will closed his eyes. It would take Apollo himself to save her, along with the Fates' decision and then some. "I'll try my best."

Will laid the girl's head on the boy's knees and grabbed the ambrosia he had stashed in his back pocket. He fed the girl a square and she made a face as she choked it down. Pain killers had been grounded into the ambrosia before the battle, in fear Will would stumble across someone in need of pain meds and there wouldn't be any liquid at hand. While his makeshift medicine tasted horrible, together the effect was strong and affective. Will was thankful he had thought ahead and prepared.

The effects were almost immediate after consuming the medicine. The girl managed to soften her face that was screwed up in pain as she chewed.

"Is that it? Can't we move her?" the boy inquired with a furrowed brow and a pale complexion. Will thought he looked horrible, yet he could only imagine how his own appearance appeared in comparison.

"Moving will kill her," Will admitted. He tried putting pressure on her side but his actions only resulted in painful cries. "Her best option is to stay put."

"So then—?"

 _We wait_ , Will thought. For what? He didn't know. For her to die; for a miracle to happen; for another monster to attack and leave them no choice but to flee without her. "Who're your godly parents?" Will asked instead. Coward, the cries of the battle hissed in his ears.

"Zac, son of Demeter."

"Undetermined," the girl whispered. Of course she was. To Will's dismay, she began coughing up a thick, gooey river of blood.

"DIE!"

"Not today, sucker!"

"Shut up—oh wonderful, now it's MAD!"

A car went flying past the alleyway and crashing somewhere in the distance. The sounds of scrambling bodies and vibrations of something heavy didn't help Will's headache or vertigo as it filled the backally.

"We need backup!"

"There's no one to ask for help!"

Zac glanced at Will.

"Go," Will assured him. "I've got her."

Zac slid the girl's head off his lap and onto Will's. "Thanks. I'll be back."

Will nodded mutely. He watched as Zac grabbed his sword and dart into battle for the last time.

Will pressed his finger to the girl's neck. Her pulse was faint, barely there. Her eyes were shut and her breathing shallow. Will assumed she only had a minute left. It tortured him to simply sit by and watch an innocent die, but there was no other choice. He hadn't anything else to help but ambrosia—which would kill her if she consumed any more—and he didn't want her to die alone if he dare attempted to find help elsewhere.

Will looked down at the girl. It was unfair—it all was. The fact that this girl didn't even know her own parent but had to fight for them, side with them, die for them, nonetheless; it was unfair that so many innocents were dying and suffering in a war they were unwillingly thrust into by the gods; it was unfair that Will and other demigods had to fight every single day—not only today—to simply live another. They never asked for any of this; they never asked to be targeted by monsters or to be the children of egotistical, omnipotent, selfish gods.

When would this end? Assuming they did defeat Kronos, would they only be buying more time for another enemy and another war to arise? Would this be the endless cycle of Will's life, until he died in battle or at the clutches of a monster? Could he keep on doing this; paving and clearing the way for another generation to simply take part in the endless cycle of a halfblood's life? Physically, emotionally and mentally it was all very draining. Will didn't know how much more he could take of this, feeling used as a pawn without the care if he was discarded.

"Who's there?" A honey colored-haired girl crept down the alleyway with her bow raised. She lowered it slightly when she recognized him. "Will!?"

Will blinked. "Yeah?" The ally came rushing back into focus from the blurry cloud that it was before.

"It's Annabeth."

"What—?"

"Stab wound to the upper arm. I think it tore muscle, ended shy of bone. It's definitely infected telling by the greenness, I'm betting poison."

Will swallowed harshly as a prominent ringing began to take over his hearing. "Where is she?"

Veronica pointed West. "Plaza Hotel. We've temporarily made camp there."

"Okay. Just give me a second and I'll get Michael, he was at the bridge last time I saw him—" Will had begun to shift the girl in his lap before realizing how cold she was.

"Will..."

Oh gods, he felt sick.

"I don't know how to say this—"

Will couldn't find a pulse.

"So... I'll just be blunt:"

He kept searching but he couldn't find a pulse. He couldn't find a pulse he couldn't fine a pulse he couldn't he couldn't he couldn't he—

"Michael's gone."

Will snapped his head up, his hand frozen on a pulseless neck and a marble of emotions lodged in his throat.

"What?"

"Gone."

"Gone?" he croaked.

"Gone," she confirmed. "MIA. Dead."

Will blinked harshly. He could only flick his stare between his sister and the dead girl that he hadn't even realized died until too late. Michael, his brother, the very first person he met at camp, was dead? Michael wasn't supposed to die. This wasn't supposed to go this way. Michael was thick headed sometimes but he... he had a mother to go back to, a future awaiting him, friends to see and a life to lead. Michael was a familiar part of camp that Will couldn't ever imagine loosing—his presence was something familiar, comforting, something Will always depending on having.

Oh gods, how would the _battle_ be affected by this? Michael was the best medic. Demigods were getting injured at an alarming rate. They needed help—they needed Michael—or else they and many more would die in a mass of numbers.

"You're going to have to help," Victoria said. She must've seen the indecisiveness Will certainly felt, or maybe the hopeless despair screaming from his eyes, for she told him: "You're as good as Michael was, you're all we've got. You can do this—you have to do this. Annabeth might loose her arm if we don't act!"

Will nodded numbly. Slowly, the marble tumbled down his throat to later be brought up at a more appropriate time. This wasn't the place to break down. Will was now the eldest of Apollo's cabin. He would have to take charge of his siblings, of all his allies who needed his help; Will would have to step up in the midst of a hectic war of horrific monsters and child soldiers, and selflessly serve whoever he could so that they might win.

"Use the curtains from the hotel rooms as tourniquets and bandages. We'll need ambrosia and nectar STAT. If worst comes to worst we'll also need something to sedate her." While the parentless girl died by either the hand of the Fates or the lack of Will's, he was determined to not let that happened with Annabeth or anyone else in his care.

It was only after Victoria had left and Will had caught a ride with Percy Jackson to the Plaza was when he realized he had forgotten to give the girl a drachma. She didn't deserve to wait years to simply enter the underworld after her miserable end on earth because she hadn't any money, yet Will couldn't do anything about it besides feel even more guilty. But he hadn't the time for that, not much at least. Time was slipping away like sand in an hour glass, every single grain was a moment lost.

When they arrived at the Plaza they rode the elevators up several floors. Will and Percy had to push their way through the crowd of Athena kids to reach Annabeth who laid on a lounge chair on the terrace. Will had never seen the son of Poseidon look so frantic or panicked before.

Will unwrapped the makeshift bandage someone had made and exhaled in relief.

"It isn't so bad..." _As I feared_ , he finished silently. Veronica was correct when she assumed the wound poisoned. Will estimated that if he were a few minutes later, the poison would've spread farther and into her shoulder; which he'd be unable to extract without mutilation or a complex surgery with tools and experience he didn't have.

Will cleansed the wound with neater and redressed it in purple curtains. He ended his procedure with a healing hymn to his father—one of the many Michael had taught him.

"I'll leave you two alone, okay? You're going to live." Will cracked a smile and patted Annabeth on the knee. Percy sent him a look of pure relief and gratitude as Will left.

Veronica caught him in the hallway. "How is she?" she said in a low tone.

"Alive," Will replied, which was the best answer any demigod could afford by their circumstances. "Saved the arm."

Veronica nodded. "Good. I knew you could do it."

Will shrugged notoriously. They turned their heads to the sound of the hotel doors opening and a chaotic cacophony of panicked voices filling the quiet air.

"Medic! Medic!"

The Apollo kids ran to the balcony that over looked the lobby. Almost thirty halfbloods, hunters, nymphs, centaurs and other allies of Camp Half Blood were crowed into the tiny space. People were shouting while their bloody friends slumped in their arms and cried out from pain. Will and Veronica immediately clambered into an elevator and entered into the chaos a level below.

"She needs help!"

"C'mon, stay with me!"

"Almost there—"

"Well, so does he!"

"You'll see him again soon. Just hold on!"

"You're gonna get—"

"But this is urgent. He's what, got a paper cut?"

"TRY FIRE BURNS."

"Jill? Jill? JILL?!"

"Come on!"

Will stuck two fingers in his mouth and let out a sharp, deafening whistle. Moments like this he was appreciative of his abilities he inherited as a son of the sun god.

The room fell silent.

"Who're you?" someone called from the crowd.

"Will Solace, son of Apollo."

"Who's in charge?" another asked.

"We need help."

"What happened to the Head Medic?"

"Michael died," Will said shortly. "I'm Head Medic now." The crowd members looked at each other and shrugged, figuring as long as Will could be of service to their friends, he would qualify.

"I heard someone needs medical attention?" Will immediately regretted opening his mouth for the roar of voices and noise resumed and intensified. "QUIET!"

Will took a deep breath as his fellow demigods and comrades glared him down. He pinched the bridge of his nose and turned to Veronica. "Recruit as many helpers as possible, preferable Apollo kids but campers with minor injuries will do. Have them take records and detailed notes on patents and their injuries and recoveries."

Will turned to the crowd. "Those with life threatening injures come with me now. The rest of you divide yourselves; those with severe wounds sit by the administrative desk and who can wait to be treated sit near concierge."

And thus began a very tiresome night for the son of Apollo.

"What time is it?" Hours and hours later Will yawned and stretched out the pains in his neck.

"Twenty past 11pm," was the curt reply.

Will's eyes bulged like a goldfish he had seen at a pet store. The Son of Apollo hadn't slept or eaten for four days, except for a sip of water at the start of that morning. How was he even walking and talking?

"I need help!" someone, then cried. The work never stopped.

Will ran to the main entrance and found the slumped body of a boy he vaguely recalled as an Ares son leaning against a sweaty girl. Will, Veronica and their brother took the boy from her and lifted him onto a couch in the lobby. Will glanced at the girl as they began to remove the armor from the lifeless body. "Injury and cause of?"

"Drakon," the girl gasped. "It collapsed a building and then I found him in the debris."

Will cringed inwardly as he checked for a pulse. The number one rule as a nurse, doctor or medic was to never, ever let on the seriousness of the injury. People always assumed the worst and flipped out on their own. They needn't add fuel to the already raging fire.

Will's brother nudged him. "Neck." There was indeed a feeble pulse.

"Will he live?" the girl breathed.

They didn't respond.

"What is your relation to the patient?" Will asked, hoping she was a kind stranger helping another. He hated breaking news to family and friends.

"Friend."

"It's weakening!"

Will swore as Veronica cut open the boy's shirt. "Feel for broken ribs!" he ordered as he took in the purple and blue torso.

"Don't have to." Veronica pointed to the swelling of his abdomen. "The clavicle is bent on the left side. TR 1, 3 and 4 are broken on both sides. Flail chest. Pneumothorax—"

"Can we perform a biopsy?"

Veronica and Will stared at the other child of Apollo. "We don't have a needle, medicine, an ex-ray machine, anesthesia..." Veronica began.

"It would be killing him quicker," Will summarized in a low voice. He was very aware of the girl who was still lingering and in ear-shot.

"Then what do we _**do**_?" The boy cried. He was about fourteen, had an afro of dark hair with gold highlights and wide eyes filled with fear and desperation. This is what war did to children—what the gods, what monsters and what being a halfblood did to children. It took away the beauty of childhood and left pain, sorrow, despair, fear, greif, and emptiness behind.

Will beckoned the girl closer and instructed her to hold her friend's hand. Veronica gently lifted a canteen of nectar to his chapped lips. At this point in the battle they had to water the nectar down and ration it out in unbelievable small amounts to make it last. Will wouldn't even call it the drink of the gods and he seriously doubted if it even worked or not.

The Ares boy died on the pleather couch a day later after shouting out "Tess!" for the girl. The girl collapsed of exhaustion, exertion, grief and stress by his side soon after. They couldn't wake her. No amount of smell or sound would be rewarded with a reaction. Her temperature dropped drastically, as did her pulse, blood flow, breathing and heartbeat. The Stolls has managed to loot an ambulance and they scored big with an automated external defibrillator. While the handy machine steadied her heart, it did nothing for her breathing.

Will soon found himself performing CPR on an His unreceptive patient whilst on the brink of crying.

"Will?"

"C'mon," Will muttered. And one and two and three and four and five and six and seven—

"Will?"

Beads of spear trickled down the blonde boy's face as he slammed him palms into Tess's chest.

"Will, stop!"

Just a little more! Will squeezed his eyes shut and inhaled deeply. His arms were aching, he didn't know how much longer he could keep this up. Just breathe, he chanted. Focus on breathing. In and out. In and out. Everything melted away to a faint buzz in the background. In and out. And fifteen and sixteen. In and out. And nineteen and twenty. In and o—

"WILL!" Will felt a hand on his shoulder and he was jolted back to reality, back to the war and death and chaos and pain. "She's... she's dead. It's useless to keep trying."

"You don't know that!"

"Yeah, I do."

Will felt tears gather in the corners of his eyes. What number would Tess be on the list of deaths on his hands? His throat was raw and dry. "How?" he choked. He heard the person shift behind him.

"I know when someone dies, the very second their soul departs their body. I'm sorry, but... but you can't save everyone."

Pale arms caught a sobbing Will before he hit the floor.

Will did not know how long he bawled into the arms of a stranger. Long enough for him to feel better and realize how pathetic he was. Will finally pulled away to face a boy clad in all black. It was as if the color was as much apart of him as arteries belonged to the heart. Dark, curly hair framed dark eyes filled with enchanting secrets and sorrowful stories. The hair and eyes made made the stranger's face appear even more paler then it was.

"I'm sorry," Will blushed. He couldn't believe he broke down in the arms of a boy he barely knew.

"It's cool," the boy said. Will couldn't help but notice that he had nice lips. "I reacted similar when Bianca died. Well, I kinda bottled it up so not really. But, you know..."

Will felt his heart drop (of course this guy was out of his league). Then he felt angry for feeling angry that a guy he knew for two seconds wasn't his type.

"I'm Will," he said, extending his hand. He hoped his face was more composed than his mind or emotions. "Will Solace."

"Nico Di Angelo." Nico shook his hand gingerly, despite the caked blood coating his skin and nails. Nico Di Angelo. That had such a nice ring to it, and the way Nico said his name was as if hearing a—gah! Will shook his head. He needed to think straight (ironically) and this boy wasn't helping him in the slightest.

"Son of Apollo."

Nico nodded solemnly. "I assumed so."

"And you? Do you know—?"

Nico's mouth twisted into a sort of grimace. "Yeah." Will decided that lips like his shouldn't ever have a reason to form such a position. "I don't think you'd like my kind hanging around here."

Will blinked.

"Y'know... with all your healer stuff."

"What?" Will chuckled darkly. "The only demigods we could possibly prefer avoid the infirmary are those of H—oh."

Nico smiled bitterly.

"Well, you aren't the bringer of death," said Will matter-of-factly.

"Huh?" It was Nico's turn to blink.

"Find a couch or a comfy stair and lay down. Stay. You need rest. When was the last time you had anything to drink?" Will was staring at his lips again, noticing their dryness (for medical purposes obviously). Oh, damnit, who was he fooling?

"Hey!" Nico disclaimed. "I happen to like the rugged look. And when was the last time you drank anything?"

Will thought for a few moments. He finally sighed. "Touché. But still, humor me. I need something do, anyway. It'll help me keep busy and focused."

Nico shrugged and found a nice chair in the lobby that was previously a victim to a satyr, right in Will's line of view (which he rather liked). For the rest of the morning Will regularly checked on Nico, indulging him in quick conversations, quirky comments and snarky come backs. Will found Nico's company extremely enjoyable and he guessed by Nico's upturned lips that his own presence was just as tolerable.

That afternoon their side won. The monsters were cleared away, the city awakened. The campers went back to Camp Half Blood and the rest dispersed across the country again. Nico, Will was sad to find, had somehow disappeared in the hours of celebrating. Will hoped he would see the son of Hades again, possibly soon, but that was wishful thinking.

A week later the Apollo kids burned a shroud embroidered with gilded suns, arrows and music notes for Michael Yew, along with their 16 other lost or dead siblings. They created little memorials out of the deceased camper's bunks and kept their cabin curtains drawn for the first few days in memoriam. Cabin 7 had never felt so empty.

Zac and the girl's bodies were never found, leaving Will to assume they were a snack for a monster. The Demeter children made a shroud for the numerous siblings they lost and included Zac's name in stitching. Will had never mentioned the girl to anyone but Veronica, who had forgotten all about the alleyway incident over the course of the battle. The girl was undetermined and one of the many of the unclaimed halfbloods residing in Hermes cabin, lost in the crowd of parentless kids.

Ares had also made a shroud for their losses, including one for the boy who's chest collapsed. No one remembered Tess, the one of many that Will failed to save. And so both girls, along with many other heroes who had died and no one had ever or would ever know about, did not receive a shroud burning.

To cope with his losses, Will dove head first into healing and caring for the sick and injured and those who supported remaining wounds from the battle. Some scars, rips or tears he could easily mend with a few stitches, ointment and ambrosia. But then again, some scars weren't as easily fixed as so. And some scars, even yet, weren't as visible to the naked eye as one might had wished.

Will loved to visit the little gravesite the camp had made in honor of their triumph and their deceased. Grover Underwood, Lord of the Wild, had managed to pursue wood nymphs to create a small glade in the Camp's woods. Small stones littered almost every inch of the ground with names, numbers, words or symbols etched into the rocks.

Many people stereotyped Will as a sun loving, rainbow wishing and flower field kind of guy. He did love the sun, and flowers, but he also appreciated the darkness the earth had to offer; for when came the light, dutifully followed the shadows. It was a quiet place to clear his head, breathe, and collect his thoughts.

And so, as you can imagine, he wasn't expecting any visitors.

Will was kneeling at the stone for Zac and he almost had a heart attack when Nico suddenly popped out from behind a tree.

"Hey."

"WHAT THE HADES?!" Will fell back.

"No, it's me," Nico said almost pleasantly. "That would be my Dad."

Will's face almost split in half in smile upon the arrival of Nico. But then he remembered how Nico had simply left without a trace or forewarning. Will frowned as he hauled himself upright. "Busy, much?"

Nico waved his hand in a casual matter. "Nah, not really. I'm fine."

"I see that," Will snapped.

Nico tiled his head, studying Will. "Why are you upset?"

"Oh, I don't know!" he exclaimed. _Here it comes_ , he thought. The inevitable breakdown. "You just left without a word—no goodbye, nice to meet yah, talk to you later—and then you pop back here again, acting as if you can come and go as you please and you didn't just leave."

Nico looked quite taken back at Will's outburst. Granted, Will was a little surprised by himself too. He always liked to consider himself as level headed, calm and collected in a moment of complication, but the way this conversation was heading said otherwise.

"Sorry," Nico said hesitantly. "I... I didn't know you felt—that we—that I would be missed. People don't usually care about my business."

Will rolled his eyes. "Well, do people usually cry hysterically in your arms?" His cheeks were red upon reminiscing—oh gods, thinking about blushing made it even worse.

Nico smirked. "Touché."

Will had to smile. And Nico was forgiven. "I forgot to ask you," Will said a little while later. They were staring at the sun filtering through the canopy of trees. "How did you know my name?"

Nico arched a brow. "Don't you remember? You introduced yourself after practically whistling everyone's ear off." Nico extended his hand. Curled in his fist was a rock reading 'Bianca'.

"Was she your girlfriend?" Will dreaded his predicted reply.

Nico chuckled and shook his head. "No, sister. But I get that a lot. People assume and they think they're right."

"Oh." Relief flooded Will. "I'm sorry," he added offhandedly, trying to keep the grin off his face. If he understood what he though Nico was implying, then maybe he had a chance. "Was it recent?"

Nico sighed and dug a black conversed-toe in the ground. "No, a few years ago. They say it gets easier with time, but I think it's the opposite. I'm beginning to forget who she was and there isn't anything to fill that gap."

"I'm sorry."

Nico wryly grinned. "You said that already."

"It's true."

He pointed to Will's hand. "How 'bout you? S'for the girl?"

Will clutched his stone a little tighter. It's jagged edges bit into his skin, but he welcomed the pain. Pain wasn't all bad. Pain could be of good use. It was centering, jolting, riveting. A healthy balance of pain was what life was all about.

"No. Her name was Tess. This is for—" gulp "—for another. I—I didn't—couldn't—" Will stifled a harsh sob. "I never asked her name. She was undetermined. I couldn't save her and I didn't even know her name." He took a deep breath. Gods, he must sound bipolar or crazy. Will tapped Zac's rock. "He died moments before she. I didn't even realize before it was too late."

"Hey," Nico said cautiously. "You couldn't have saved her. She was too far gone."

"I know. It's just... it's much more complicated than that."

Nico looked confused, but he didn't press for answers. He simply walked away and Will thought for a moment that he was leaving again; only to watch him circle the glade, picking a spot for his stone.

Will placed the rock for the unnamed girl right next to Zac's. He patted the dirt firmly around it and called upon a sun beam to quicken the paste of the flower seeds he planted.

"Are you ready?" Nico called. A tedious question with such abstract answers.

Will pulled an object from his pocket and let it drop. A stone with the Greek words: 'μπορούμε να φύγουμε αλλά να μην ξεχαστούμε ποτέ' rolled a little ways away, right next to the stone for Michael Yew.

"May you find peace," he whispered, staring at the rows and rows of concrete losses. Will glanced at Nico. "I am."

Will felt like an old rag; as if someone had rung him out and shook him up and left him to hand on a wire; stretched, fraying and pulled taunt at the edges. No, Will wasn't tired. He realized that despite the pinging in his head, a ringing in his ears, pain behind his eyes and vertigo everywhere he looked... he took Nico's hand and strolled out of the forest ...Will was **hopeful**.


End file.
